


steal the air from my lungs and watch me gasp your name

by Undersea_Anchor



Category: RWBY
Genre: Bumbleby - Freeform, Canon Compliant, Emotions, Established Relationship, F/F, Feelings, Intimacy, Love, Non-Explicit Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-01
Packaged: 2019-11-07 13:51:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17961797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Undersea_Anchor/pseuds/Undersea_Anchor
Summary: The bed dips next to her and she follows it, doesn’t even try to keep herself upright, tears her eyes away from the storm outside in order to stare up into the softest lavender she has or will ever see again; stares into love and gentleness and protection and home.//If she burns, Blake thinks, because she was too busy losing herself in the heat and solace that is Yang Xiao Long, well then she can’t think of why that would be a bad thing.





	steal the air from my lungs and watch me gasp your name

The cold is unrelenting, biting and violent. Snow whirls outside in a crazed manner, icy and uncontrollable. The wind sounds like it is in pain; its cry sharp and piercing, and Blake thinks that maybe it is. Her ears flatten back against her skull, her hair falling across her shoulders, inky strands tangled together and slightly frazzled as she leans her head down, cheek pressing into her knee; her arms winding themselves around her legs as she curls in on herself, golden eyes unfocused as she stares out of the window.

An exhale in the form of a sigh leaves her and her shoulders fall with the motion, weight that she shouldn’t have to feel, shouldn’t have to bare - none of them should - tight and heavy in her lungs. She tightens her arms, a vice keeping her together as chills wreck her, shakes her frame from the inside out, even with Yang’s jacket hugging her and a fire crackling quietly in the room, she is still cold, still void of the warmth that she should be feeling. She never liked the cold. 

The door creaks from somewhere behind her, old and tired - she understands the feeling - and she doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. Their footsteps are heavy and light all at once, not wanting to startle, but not wanting to hide either and a heat creeps closer to her as they do and it makes the death grip she had put around her legs relax, tension easing. The bed dips next to her and she follows it, doesn’t even try to keep herself upright, tears her eyes away from the storm outside in order to stare up into the softest lavender she has or will ever see again; stares into love and gentleness and protection and  _ home.  _

Warm fingers thread through her hair, nails scratching at her scalp as her body rests comfortably against the heat source and Blake can feel it, feel her blood heat up and spread throughout her body, can feel the sparks and fire; she can feel the way she feels alive and whole again. Her arm reaches out, elbow bends so that her hand rests above a heartbeat, fingers curled loosely, a leg copies, unfurling and lifting so that it rests over a thigh, successfully pressing close to what she seeks, cheek now nuzzling into the coziness of a shoulder, eyes never leaving that lavender, never breaking contact as they both settle. They don’t need to talk much, their gazes communicating just as efficiently as their words could.

_ You’re here. _

_ I’m here, I’ve got you. _

_ I’m cold, don’t go again. _

_ Never.  _

Blake tilts her head, arches her neck back and she waits, she doesn’t have to wait long, she never does, not with her; she knows that no matter what, they will both be where they need to be, will always meet each other, will always seek the other out; that they will always find each other. A tongue darts out to wet lips and Blake watches in rapt attention, eyes lidded and jaw slack as she breathes shallowly through her mouth, and then Yang is there, mouth pressed to hers and she sighs again, the weight and tiredness from before being replaced with something lighter, something freeing; her entire body relaxes and she hums in appreciation.

A shiver of a different kind goes through her and it’s electrifying, makes her tremble and her blood boil; she’s growing hot, too hot, and it should hurt her, should make her curl inwards and jerk away but it doesn’t; it never does when it’s  _ her _ . Blake craves it, constantly, feels empty and torn when she doesn’t have it, feels like a piece of herself is missing and the cold seeps in so much easier when she is alone. She gasps as Yang slips her tongue inside, slow and languid; there’s no hurry and they are both more than happy to take their time, relish in the sensations they bring to each other, take comfort in knowing neither of them are leaving, that they are exactly where they need to be. 

Her gasp rattles the air, makes it quake and her fingers spill out on the expanse of skin they were previously curled up against, tips pressing and digging. The heartbeat that is under her palm stutters and speeds up, racing with an urgency that doesn’t translate into the kiss she is currently engaged in; that is still slow, still building and exploring. Their tongues lick and caress, it’s all soft and wet and it makes Blake feel hazy, like she is floating and her chest tightens, lungs burning and on fire for a reason not like the rest of her body; she’s forgotten how to breathe. 

She doesn’t pull away, she can’t, she doesn’t need to, doesn’t want to; instead she pushes in harder, her hand goes from a chest and fists at the back of Yang’s head, forces her closer and the surprised squeak is drowned out by a blissful moan, yes their lungs are burning, screaming for just a little bit of air, but they just don’t fucking care. If she burns, Blake thinks, because she was too busy losing herself in the heat and solace that is Yang Xiao Long, well then she can’t think of why that would be a bad thing. 

Fortunately for both of their lungs, the sweet feeling of expanding, of being filled, comes when Blake rips her mouth away from Yang’s, dangerously breathless and choking on a moan; now positioned on top of a lap, a leg slotted between her thighs, pressing firmly between the throbbing that she can feel there; a string of saliva connects them briefly before vanishing into nothing. 

Their foreheads are pressed together and she can feel Yang’s hands on her sides, under her shirt and pleasantly setting alight the curves hidden there, goosebumps littering her skin and the hairs on her arms and the back of her neck are standing on end; she rocks her hips and neither of them can stop the sounds that fall from their lips, not that they would want to in the first place. 

Yang is powerful, she is the electricity in the air when a storm is about to hit, swirling and charging, she is the split that rocks the earth when disaster strikes, she is strong and damaging and she is dangerous; and she is the safest place Blake has ever known. She breathes her name like it’s the only thing she knows and she clings to the way Yang says hers, all soft and loving and like she was made to do nothing else. 

They come back together without words, guiding and exploring each other in ways that haven’t been done before. Red bleeds into lavender and gold burns bright, hands are firmer but never rough and their kisses mimic their touches, hints of teeth, promises for another time and the temperature increases tenfold and it absolutely has nothing to do with the fire that’s burning in the room. They move, well, Yang moves; her arms squeezing Blake to her as she rotates them, bodies slotting together like a puzzle piece, easy and perfect. Blake feels her back meet the mattress, if only for a moment, because in the next second it’s arching, sharp and beautiful as lips and hands roam her, strip her of layers she no longer needs and she blindly reaches out, yearning and aching; she catches the sun with her fingers and follows it down her body, lets it consume her in every way and more. 

Blake was cold before and she knows there will be times when she will feel so again, but she also knows that it will never last long, knows that it won’t be the same kind of cold that she had to suffer through for the ten months they were apart, knows that it won’t be the kind of cold that leaves her empty and alone, because she knows that even as a snow storm bellows just outside, she will be warm, she will be full and she will never, ever feel alone again; not when she has the sun at her fingertips, around her heart and in her very soul.    

**Author's Note:**

> yeah, they have completely taken over my life. 
> 
> i wanted to try a new style of writing, one that was more intimate to describe, less scripted and resembling more to how i like to think. Let me know if you liked this better or not


End file.
